Before We Fall In Love
by twowritehands
Summary: The tragedy in dying young is the unlived life, but at 22, Peter was ready to answer the final call. As High King, he'd had everything-except for love. That he found the last minute.


Disclaimer: CS Lewis is cooler than me

**Before We Fall In Love**

**Prologue**

Narnia was a land of animals that needed humanity something awful; they needed two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve to rule them, teach them to be as Aslan was. The land from which these sons and daughters came, a place called England, taught people that animals were animals and people were people and it just wasn't right to mix them. But in Narnia, the animals weren't just animals and the people weren't just people; all of them were Aslan's soldiers, and all of them were alike, could mix.

Mr. Tumnus, a humble lowly faun soldier, would hardly allow himself the hope that the Queen of the glistening eastern sea would grace him with her affections, but that she did. First in secret, as all young girls like to do at first; and then she grew older, and knew more things about herself and the world—both worlds to which she belonged—she began to let everyone else see that she liked her first friend in Narnia as more than a friend.

The High King and Queen had problems at first—they were too attached to their English teachings that humans married humans and animals married animals—but they came around in the end. They spoke to Aslan, and they finally understood what young Lucy always knew; they were all part animal part human, they were all the same in Narnia. Mr. Tumnus had goat in him—that determined nature that made climbing mountains so easy—and Lucy had lion in her—that courage to always do what was right. Goat and Lion—still an odd pairing, but so was a lowly soldier to a queen.

With the High King's blessing, Mr. Tumnus came to court Queen Lucy. Their love was soft, and slow to bloom like the rarest and most beautiful flowers in Narnia. It pleased everyone to see it so delicately nurtured day by day, year by year…

Then they were blessed by Aslan, and a royal wedding was planned, but it never happened. The Kings and Queens of Narnia went to hunt the white stag, and did not return for 1300 years…

**Part One**

Peter was used to being alone. Not completely alone, mind; he always had Ed, and the girls to talk to—not to mention the lion residing in his chest, but he was used to being alone in the since that when they were growing up ruling over Narnia, he was often left on his own. Susan always had a few suitors tailing behind her, Ed never seemed to need more than scrolls of philosophy, a good game of chess, and a sparing partner, though he had plenty of admirers as well. Lucy, of course, had Mr. Tumness, whose first name was Terry though only she could call him that.

The High King never minded those hours by himself. He actually preferred it. It was not until he fell back out of the wardrobe, landing right in the middle of puberty and a war torn home where his father might not come back and everyone thought he was still just a boy that something in him broke. That was when the lion left him, and he grew resentful and angry.

The second call back to Narnia saved his life. It reminded him of some things he had forgotten, and taught him several other things that he would never forget.

Most of those other things had to do with a bear named Miss Isolde Wunest.

So many people, _dead_. Peter's chest hurt and his stomach turned at the memory of looking back to see those honorable, good people stuck behind the portcullis doomed to face their slaughter and all because of _him_, the Telmarine.

It felt good to yell, to blame, but it didn't help anything, it only made it worse. With their swords at each other's throats, for a moment, just a moment, Peter thought he might actually do it—but then his anger left him and he was ashamed.

So ashamed, and so lost.

Where had Aslan gone? How was it okay that he would just leave everyone? He left a whole country to fend for itself. He left him, Peter, to deal with trying to fix it alone. He had Ed and the girls—and maybe even Caspian, but that didn't change it that Aslan was gone and that he, Peter, was High King and the person _everyone_ was looking to for help.

And with the castle massacre still burning fresh with searing pain through his chest it was clear; he couldn't handle it alone, not when he almost…

"You look lost, Highness."

The soft voice from the shadows startled him. He leapt to his feet and whirled to find the speaker. It was a bear. She was easily 350 pounds, 6 feet tall on her hind legs, and one knock of her massive paws would send him head over heels. She sat and blinked at him kindly.

"I was just thinking." He sighed.

"Looks like the kind of thinking you were doing was the kind best done out loud to someone who would listen and could help."

"Well that person isn't here, that's the problem." Peter grumbled somewhat bitterly.

"Who's to say there's just one of them in the world?" She asked.

The corner of Peter's mouth went up ever so slightly, "I suppose you're right. There certainly is more than one helpful listener in the world."

"I happen to be one, you know." She said.

"Are you, now?" Peter laughed.

"An expert, actually," She chuckled, the sound was a deep rumble, warm and friendly.

Feeling a real smile stretch his lips, a little bit-just a little bit-of Peter's bitterness melted away like winter into spring.

Then a soldier careened into the chamber, panting and crying, "Quickly, Highnesses—it is Caspian. He is in trouble!"

The Telmarine prince was standing in front of a great wall of ice with his hand outstretched toward a most beautiful woman trapped inside it. She was reaching out, too, and they were nearly touching. Fear—but mostly anger—enveloped Peter the moment he saw the woman. He hated no one else more.

He drew his sword and crashed all of his bodyweight into Caspian, knocking him to the ground and inadvertently taking his place. The White Witch towered above him, even more enticing at this proximity. Her dark eyes were quiet lovely, and every single one of her movements bore a certain sensuality that stirred something inside Peter. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and soft and before he knew it, his muscles were relaxing.

"You _know_ you can't do it alone…" She purred and she was so right that Peter felt like he was finally getting to sit down after being on his feet all day. A great load slumped off and he felt lighter and finally able to take a moment to breathe and rest…

One blow later, from the blade of a hidden warrior, the White Witch and all her lies and seduction crumbled down until the dark and hardened face of Ed was left fixing his brother with a look of utmost disappointment.

"I know." He said, "You had it sorted."

Peter's knees gave out and he fell to the floor. The others helped Caspian and those wounded from the battle. Susan lingered a moment, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder, before she hurried after the rest, leaving Peter alone.

Tears pricked his eyes and all of that pain, all of that sorrow, all of the confusion and doubt and fear exploded out of him in a great body-wracking sob. He fell to his hands and knees in the dusty and ice-filled floor and cried. He didn't hear her approach, didn't know she was there until her heavy paw rested ever so gently on his back.

The weight was comforting, though finding he had an audience was not. He tried to put a cork in it, to staunch the flow of salty tears and find that hard mask of resolve that he usually hid behind, but it was too late now. He collapsed again, but this time the grizzly bear caught him in one paw and pulled him into a hug.

He had never ever been hugged by a bear before; it was lovely.

Her fur was thick, and deep and warm, though not overly so. Her meaty arms completely enveloped him and held him tight, but not so much that his bones cracked or his lungs suffered; she hugged him tight, but just right.

His tears stopped soon after that and he pulled away to look up at her. She looked back with what was unmistakably a bear smile.

"Better now, High King?"

"Much, er—"He suddenly felt foolish as he regained his personal space. "I'm so sorry, I don't know your name."

"Wunest," She answered with a bear bow, "Isolde Wunest."

Peter gave his most kingliest bow back. "I thank you, Miss Wunest. That was exactly what I needed." He looked back at the ruins of the ice wall. He felt infinitely better now than he had in the moment of its destruction, but that only put him back where he started; Aslan's presence was still gone.

And he was still alone.

"The White Witch," he found himself saying by way of explanation in the diplomatic way he had learned to do in his reign as king, "has a way of hollowing a man out. Nothing like a hug to fill the spaces again."

"Anytime, Highness."

"Call me Peter, please," he said.

"Peter," she said, and there was uncertainty in her voice, "Might I speak plainly?"

"Of course."

"You still seem distracted—lost as before."

"Am I so transparent?" He asked, one side of his mouth going up in a weak attempt at humor. She nodded. He sighed and sank to his bottom.

"Things have changed so much since my time here." He breathed. She said nothing and he found himself continuing in that diplomatic explanatory way. "I know that I can't expect things to remain the same, not when I'm always changing but some things have changed that I thought couldn't." His hand went absently to his chest. "I thought Aslan could never leave us."

"He is not a tame lion," the bear offered softly. Peter sprang to his feet, throwing his arms in the air, "But how is that an excuse—why isn't he here now in our most desperate hour of need? I need him and he isn't here—not for me he isn't. Lucy saw him, but I couldn't! What's wrong with me? It was my plan that got all those people killed and just now I nearly—"

He cut off and slumped against a boulder, pressed on his eyes. "I don't feel like the king I used to be. This isn't the Narnia I remember. Aslan has gone and he has let everyone forget him, or begin to doubt him, or begin to hate him, and I never thought it would come to that."

Next thing he knew he was swept up in another bear hug but this one was brief. "You _are_ the king you used to be and this _is_ the Narnia you remember—all it needs is for you to trust in Aslan and to trust in your brother and sister, but most of all it needs you to trust in yourself. You can lead us back to him."

Peter nodded and his new friend walked away on her hind legs like a civilized bear. He wandered over to the wall where a carving of Aslan looked out on the whole scene and sank down before it. Staring at it, he couldn't help but think, _trusting would be so much easier if you would just give us some proof that you are still with us…_

Lucy found him and gave him the last bit of advice that he needed. "Maybe we're the ones who have to prove ourselves to him."

What she said wasn't much of a comfort, it just meant a lot of hard work and probably a lot more fear and doubt to overcome, but just as a bitter retort came to mind, Miss Wunest the bear's surprisingly soft voice reminded him, _all Narnia needs is for you to trust in your brother and sisters._

"You were right, you know." Peter said. Edmund had set out with the olive branch and the proposition of a one-on-one duel with Caspian's uncle. Susan was at target practice with the prince and Lucy was talking with Reepicheap. Peter had found his bear friend helping fletch some arrows. He sat down beside her to help.

"Right how?" She asked. Peter was surprised at how easy it was for her to do the nimble work with her bear claws.

"Trusting is all I have to do," he said as he worked. "Lucy is closest to Aslan of all of us and she said that I have to prove myself to him. That's why I'm doing this one-on-one battle. The moment I decided on it most of my burdens fell away." He allowed a smile, "Though several more took their place. But these new ones aren't the kind I can't handle. Especially with Ed on my side; I trust in his advice on swordsmanship and battle strategies all day long—and no one is better with an arrow and logical outlook than Su."

"I do worry, though." Miss Wunest said, "A one-on-one battle with the Telmarine King? He is so much older—and so much more devious."

"You sound like Su." Peter said, "But I have several advantages on my side—surprise being one of them. He will underestimate me. I don't look like it, but I have near twenty years of experience under my belt."

"But still—what if you are hurt?" the bear asked, turning her big head to blink at him. Peter looked up from his work to give her a smile and was caught there, his smile fading slightly. Her eyes were quiet big and very deep, as strong and soft as her voice. He pulled himself out of it and his smile returned,

"Don't confuse me with one of your cubs, now, Miss Wunest."  
"I don't have any cubs." She laughed, "I'm only two." In bear years that made her quite young—little more than a child herself, as Peter was.

"Really?" He asked, "Because you seem so…" he fished for a word and settled on, "wise."

"Well so do you, Highness." She chuckled, and added, "I mean, Peter."

His lungs were on fire. His clothes stuck to him for all the sweat. The sun overhead was merciless. His chainmail and plate armor felt as if they were on a mission to smother him and his left arm was in so much pain that his vision was blurring and his head swimming with the slightest movement.

"I think it's dislocated," he panted. Across the arena, the older king was sneering at him with loathing and Peter knew that round two was going to be treacherous—but he was so, so tired.

The icy hand of fear squeezed his heart. He could very well die within the hour. _Crunch_. Ed interrupted Peter's attempt to apologize for—everything. His shoulder still hurt, but at least now he could use the arm. _Trust in yourself_. Miss Wunest had said. He looked at her, standing nearby. She was not the only bear assembled for battle. In fact, next to the others, it was obvious how young she was. She was quiet small compared to the eight-foot-tall and seven hundred pound bears around her, though she was on her hind legs and still towering over the fauns on either side of her.

Looking at her, he found that she was already looking right at him. _Trust in yourself_.

He straightened his spine. _I can do this._ He thought. _For Aslan._

"It is not my life to take," he panted and his voice shook with the barely-controlled anger boiling inside of him. The king kneeling before him under his blade gave him a look of such condescension and disgust that Peter felt it within himself that it would be only too easy to slide his blade right through that sneer.

He turned his back on it and handed the blade to the prince. He felt like such a coward, passing the job off to someone else—but killing an unarmed man wasn't going to prove anything to Aslan. That didn't make it any easier to bear the looks of disappointment he got from Susan and Edmund. They would have supported him had he simply killed the tyrant.

It would have ended the war, saved lives, fair and square.

As Caspian approached with blade in hand the subdued murderer of his father, Peter drew a deep breath, trying to wrestle away the demons screaming that he should have just did it and as he did so, his eye caught those big deep black ones of his young bear friend. She lowered her head to him in an unmistakable bow of understanding and acceptance, of praise.

He instantly felt better; at least one person understood.

The battle of Aslan's How raged around them. Lucy and her army were nowhere to be seen. The Telmarines had fallen right into their trap, but there were much more waiting to move in on them and they had no more tricks up their sleeve, save for Lucy, who was late.

_Where was she?_

The enemy swept his legs right from under him and he landed hard on his back. The wind left him. The Telmarine stood over him, dark eyes gleaming wildly and sword glinting in the sun. A roar filled the air and the soldier was knocked bodily to the ground, unconscious—possibly even dead from such a powerful blow to the head. Miss Wunest held out a paw, which Peter took and she stood him on his feet easily.

"Thanks," he panted and a moment later, she shoved him to the side and raked her claws at an attacker, slicing his arm open and then slamming him to the ground. The ferocity was so unlike the soft-spoken gentle bear Peter had met that for a moment he thought he must have been mistaken—but then she thumped him on the back with her paw, and said,

"You have one more friend you can trust in me, Peter." And then she gave a roar and bounded on all fours straight at a clump of soldiers, who scattered from her slashing claws and teeth. An inexplicably large amount of worry suddenly clenched Peter's gut and made it drop to the ground at the thought of what might happen to her in this battle. He vaguely had time to think that he would have preferred it if she had stayed in relative safety with the other girls he cared about, up with Susan and the archers, or with Lucy on her journey.

All around him, good people were dying and more and more Telmarines were advancing on them.

_Where was Lucy?_

He turned to ask Susan, who could give him no answer. Fear twisted his gut—what if something had gone wrong? Raising his blade and blocking an attack and then dispatching of the attacker, Peter cried aloud, "No!"

He spoke to no one but himself. _No_, he was not going to doubt. _Lucy would come._

And come she did with all the forest on her side and the Telmarines running for the river. Miss Wunest fell in beside him as they gave chase to the enemy with renewed vigor.

"Silly of them," panted Miss Wunest as they ran, "With the tress on our side, you'd think they'd known better than to trust that the river would help anyone else but us."

Peter laughed, for in that moment he honestly believed that the river could rise up and help them just as the trees had.

After all, with trust in one's self, one's friends, and Aslan, anything was possible.

"You must be some kind of prophet," Peter said. He was out of that dreadfully heavy and suffocating armor at long last. They were back in the castle, at a feast. Peter was dead tired but he was also hungry and eager to celebrate their victory. He'd found Miss Wunest in the crowd.

"Prophet?" she echoed, blinking down at him.

"The river did help us."

"We had faith that it would." She said, "All things are possible with the power of faith."

In that moment, he was sure he would never lose faith again. And a thought like that puts a bounce in one's step like nothing else. He held out a hand, smiling jovially, "care to dance, then?"

"I've never danced with a son of Adam before."

"Nor I with a bear. It's fun to try new things."

She was a foot taller. Her paws dwarfed his hands. She was surprisingly swift for something her size and knew the steps to the dance well. He laughed,

"You continue to impress me, Miss Wunest."

"Isolde, please," she said with a soft—almost shy-bear chuckle. He looked up at her and was suddenly caught in her deep gaze once again. A thought occurred to him in that moment and it was extremely troubling because it was as true as a thing could be yet just as new.

And impossible.

It wasn't like Lucy and Terry, he at least had been half human. Miss Wunest was a bear, an all-bear, all-the-time _bear_.

The dance ended. He made excuses and left the dancing hall.

She was a _bear_.

But she was also the world's best listener, was as gentle as she was fierce, and gave the very definition of a bear hug at all the right times.

There were some things that would have been obstacles in a place like England, but here in Narnia, they didn't exist. It wasn't about certain things here, not at all.

Did shape matter when it was the soul shining through, which captivated him so?

But…

The lion was standing beside him so suddenly that he might have appeared there out of the flickering light of the nearby torch. His golden mane held the orange light as well as the shadows it cast.

"You have many questions," He said. Peter nodded. The lion looked somewhat saddened.

"What is it, Aslan?" Peter asked, fear gripping his heart—were his feelings so wrong?

"You have done nothing wrong, my son," the lion said. "It is simply that change is coming, and it won't be easy."

"Change?" Peter asked.

"You care for the she-bear, Isolde."

"I do," Peter said and then in a rush, "It has happened so quickly—and yet it is so strong and it's not like I was told it would be. I mean, she's a _bear_ so how could I feel any thing like—but here in this place things aren't like that. I still feel so _much_ for her but—"

The lion stopped him with a soft purr. Peter sighed and wished he could have one of Isolde's bear hugs.

"This is precisely what I meant when I said change is coming." Aslan said. "To have such emotions, such thoughts—it means you are growing up. It means you have finished with Narnia."

"Lucy felt this way for Mr. Tumness." Peter said, somewhat defensively.

"Lucy's journey is not yours." Aslan replied.

"Why do I feel like you are telling me that you will not give me the chance with Isolde that you gave Lucy with him?"

"Because I'm not," Aslan said quite bluntly.

Peter's breath left him promptly, "Why not?" He cried, "I don't care about the other stuff—honestly. I don't care that she's a bear. I don't need—"

"Calm yourself, Peter," the lion said, with a chuckle. "You don't have to explain your heart to me. I'm in there seeing it all even now."

Peter did not question the lion about that last statement; he already knew that to be true. Instead, he asked,

"This change you spoke of—you're saying I won't ever be coming back. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"You are becoming a man—in many ways you already are one. With the lesson of your love for Isolde, Narnia has taught you all it can. You must return to England and find what you've seen in Isolde in someone there."

"But what about Isolde?"

"She learned a valuable lesson from you as well. She, too, must find someone else."

"Why, Aslan?" Peter asked, "What is the point in bringing us together if you are just going to tear us apart?"

"How else are you going to become the man I need you to be, if you are not tested and taught through life's most effective teacher, experience?"

"I love it here so much, though. I can't bear the thought of never coming back."

"You know as well as I do that you will be back some day, and for good."

"What will I tell Ed and the girls?"

"Susan and I have already had a similar conversation." Aslan said. "She, too, will not be returning."

"Susan?" Peter asked, shocked. He whirled to face the entrance to the dance hall. She was laughing and dancing with Prince Caspian.

"Go, now." Aslan chuckled, "Dance more with your she-bear. Tomorrow will be a big day."

**Part Two**

They returned to England and its dreary weather, to school and its Latin, French and Algebra. Peter made sure to never be bitter that he wouldn't be going back anytime soon, even when Edmund and Lucy came back from a visit with the Scrubbs with a fantastic tale of another Narnia adventure with cousin Eustace, this time to the edge of the world and back. Oh, how he wished he could have seen Aslan's Land as Lucy described it, but he held onto the lion's words. _One day you will be back for good._ He knew just what that meant now, and was happy to hold to faith about it.

In one way or another, four years passed. In it, Peter left school, then Susan, followed by Ed. Lucy was in her last term and Peter was wondering how much longer it would be before he found someone here in England that had in them what he had seen in Isolde, when he got a letter from Professor Diggory asking him for a visit. The other guests would include everyone else who ever went to Narnia. It sounded like a good time, and he eagerly looked forward to it.

He was surprised, when Susan showed no interest. She would much rather stay in London in order to attend a party that weekend, some interesting bloke that Susan had her eye on would be attending.

"Su," Peter sighed, "What do you see in him? He's rather thick."

"He's the most handsome man I've ever seen."

"Yes, but that isn't all you're looking for I hope."

"What do you mean?"

Peter's heart broke just then, and as she hurried off in a swirl of fashionable skirt, he resolved to sit her down and have a very long talk about a few things she seemed to have forgotten—but the chat would have to wait until after this visit with Diggory.

On the train to Professor Diggory's with Eustance, Jill, Ed and Lu, Peter looked up from a sketch he was doing of Lucy and happened to glance around the compartment. It was a full train and there were two or three strangers sharing the compartment with them. One of them was Peter's age, beautiful, and female.

He forgot about the sketch in the way all young men do in the presence of something that reminds them of something else which is usually best left unmentioned (older readers will understand this thing Peter is thinking of, any younger ones will just have to come back to this part later and find out what you're missing.)

Peter was, of course, aged beyond those years when such thoughts were out of control and capable of making perfectly nice boys miserable. He was also a gentleman, and so never allowed his thoughts to be portrayed in any way to the outside world; he kept them locked safely in his head, and didn't even let them move around too much.

Edmund pushed an elbow into his brother's side. "Well why don't you ask her if she is finished with that paper?"

Peter narrowed his eyes at his brother, but thought that the plan was an excellent one.

"Excuse me," he said to her, "Are you finished with that paper?"

"Oh, would you like it?" She asked, already handing it out. She smiled kindly, but then smiled in a real way when her eyes actually focused on Peter's fair and bright, and appropriately handsome features. He took the paper even as both of them forgot about it.

"I'm on the way to a sick aunt." She said, "Where are you going?" She asked.

"To see an old friend," he answered.

"Oh how lovely, staying in touch. Don't you just love old friends? Nothing can ever replace them. But that doesn't mean that new friends aren't fun, too. I love making new friends. I find they quickly turn into old friends, don't you?" By the time she was at the end of this, she was breathless and blushing, and beautiful.

"I feel like you're an old friend already," Peter said it before he thought about it and he could almost feel Ed's self-important smile at this comment hidden behind a mystery novel. Weather or not it was a mocking smile or a knowing one, however, Peter never got a chance to worry about because he never got that far in thinking about it.

Because she laughed.

He forgot to worry about being eavesdropped on by a brother (which is worse than being eavesdropped on by a stranger, because you'll be seeing the brother quite a lot more often than that stranger and he might bring up the dumb things you said.)

She was laughing. He'd made her laugh. It was lovely.

He was still holding the half-finished sketch of Lucy. His new and favorite friend's dark chocolate eyes fell on it and her laughter dried up. "Beautiful picture," She said, "You're a talented artist."

"Thanks." Peter said, "She and I are lucky—we got our mother's good looks. Our brother was less fortunate." He motioned to Edmund across the compartment. Peter was a smart young man; he had chosen his words with delicate care.

Her laughter now was significantly more of a relieved variety. Suddenly the train was slowing down and Lucy was standing up to retrieve her luggage from the rack; Ed was far too engrossed in his novel to notice. Peter's stomach dropped. He didn't want the ride to be over.

He was so flustered by—everything—that he got a lot of things mixed up in the wrong order in his head. He ended up saying goodbye to her, promising more chats, and leaving the compartment all before even introducing himself, or getting her name in return.

The visit with Diggory was great fun, and the part where that strange vision had filled the dinning room had been particularly puzzling. With it came Diggory's explanation about some interesting rings he had had some adventures with as a boy.

In the months that followed, Peter was so swept up in the chance to see Narnia again that he instantly hurried off with Ed and Eustace to find the rings, which were buried in a backyard long owned by strangers, rather than remember to keep his promises to himself; he didn't call Susan up for that chat.

At the train station, Peter was with low spirits; he was beginning to understand that he would have to forfeit his chance to return to Narnia. Aslan had specifically said that if he went back, it would be to stay, and Peter now understood what that meant.

Ed, however was in high sprits—he was eager to see a particular girl upon arriving home, which he could do just as soon as this adventure was over. Lucy was her usual joyous self, finding something to smile about in nearly everything she saw.

Peter was trailing behind the two of them when he happened to look at a bench as he passed by. And there she was. He didn't even think, he dropped down next to her.

"Hello old friend," he said. She gave a great exclamation of surprise before recognizing him, and breaking into a fit of laughter.

"And I didn't believe you," She said though her laughter.

"Believe me?" he echoed.

"You said we'd talk again."

"And here we are," he said, "I don't lie. It's a nasty habit."

As he said this he saw—because he was facing them while she was not—Ed as he noticed that Peter wasn't following him and he turned around in search for him. Ed's dark eyes darted over the girl, understanding lit his darkened features and he turned away. Peter heard his distant, "He'll catch up with us later, Lu, he bumped into an old friend…"

"You _don't_ do a lot of things," she was saying with all of her teeth showing and her eyes full of light, "Like introduce yourself."

Peter, who had learned long ago that the best kind of girls liked the right kind of silliness, shrugged a shoulder. "Trivial things that old friends never worry about. Can you imagine stating your name, rank and occupation before talking to _everyone_ you know?'

"But do I know you?" She asked, through another fall of laughter. Everything he said seemed to hit her like a really good joke in the middle of church.

"Of course you do," he said brightly, "we're old friends."

There she went again. Peter got a thrill every time he dissolved her into giggles and absently wondered how many times he could accomplish it in the next hour. Whatever the number, he was sure he'd be pleased.

"Okay, old friend," she said, "you're point is valid. We shan't review all the old _boring_ facts about ourselves. You must instead tell me of your latest adventure to reunite with another dear old friend."

"Currently the adventure is still in progress," he said.

"Oh, is your friend here?" she asked. He nodded toward his party of friends. Eustace and Jill were holding hands. Ed was engrossed in a conversation with the old professor while absently rubbing the knee of an old cricket injury and Lucy was playing peek-a-boo with a nearby stranger's baby.

Peter's friend turned around for a look. "Oh, so when you said old friend, you actually meant _old_." It was Peter's turn to laugh and she continued, "Is he a distant relative, perhaps?"

"No, just a friend," Peter answered.

"How intriguing," She purred, "You're the only person I know who has such old friends."

"How is your aunt?" He asked.

"Better now," she said, "Thanks for remembering."

A long time passed when neither said anything, but sat smiling and looking. Neither one of them ever for a moment felt like they would like it if the other one would stop staring. Peter was remembering something—though he could not put a finger on exactly what it was. He felt like he was trying to remember a conversation that he had just had, but one that he somehow managed to sleep all the way through.

Something about finding someone here in England, someone who knew how to give a proper hug… The thought occurred to him that he might have found that person, in fact he was certain he was just a hug away from proving it-and he broke the happy silence between them at the same time that a horrible sound started in the distance.

"I would really like to know you're name, now."

But she didn't hear him because she had stood up. That sound—metal on metal, a most wretched whine and grind-was like a beast charging at them with the intent to kill. "What is that?" She cried.

Peter stood, too, all thoughts of hugs gone. He suddenly felt like a king on a battlefield once more as he realized what that sound was. Several people at one end of the platform screamed. There was an explosion, and then a horrendous crash. The whole platform moved underfoot, moved so much more than it should, and there was another explosion, and then a series of bangs and crashes followed the first in rapid succession, and the horror was upon Peter and his friend as Lucy and Edmund shrieked for each other and him so far away…

The pain of dying wasn't so much a physical thing as an emotional overload (though the shattered bones did still hurt quite a bit.) At first, there was confusion, followed by fear. So much fear. Fear for himself, for his brother and sister, for the children and infants he had seen all around. Then, with the realization that death was near, the fear changed.

It changed in the way of a butterfly, of a season, of a seed, into a longing. Such an intense longing for all of the things he would be leaving, all of the things he wouldn't get to do. The pain of that fear was crippling—but with a single thought—which sounded a lot like the fierce roar of a lion-the pain was gone, the fear was gone, and the horror was no more.

And just like that, he was back. He was back to the place he longed for. Finally.

And she was there, too. And he finally had a chance to ask for her name, which she gave in a fall of laughter as she took his hand. He gave a start as her skin brushed his. There was a most delightful rush as they touched for the first time. He looked down at their laced fingers and suddenly knew that, even though they had died a most horrible death before they even began, even though they left England before ever getting a chance to experience falling in love there, they were the lucky ones, because now they would get to fall in love in heaven.

"What is this place?" She asked.

"Don't worry," He said, "I'll show you around."

_fin._

**Author's Note: **_One-half of TwoWriteHands wrote "Second Chance in a Second Place" and now the other half has answered with this! It is a companion to "Second Chance." By the definition of companion, one can be read without reading the other, but it is highly recommended that you read both (you'll be thankful you did) and leave a review for both (that'll just make everybody happy and will probably bring about world peace. Think about it.) _

_Also I want to say that I love the books, but this is based more on the movies. I prefer that Peter had some angst in Prince Caspian. It's the only way I could make him interesting enough to want to write about, and anyway you can't tell me they went from being grown ups to puberty and did not have some complicated emotions about it._


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